


The Sixth Blight- Prologue- Maker, My Enemies Are Abundant

by BelleWrites (sunleyemrys)



Series: The Sixth Blight RP [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: AU, OC, Role-Playing Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 20:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunleyemrys/pseuds/BelleWrites
Summary: Big ass project to turn the collaborative role play writing I've been doing with a group of friends into a cohesive story. Some things will be edited from the original posts.. but this is largely just cleaning it up and putting everything in order. Each major plot point will be its own post with chapters. Hopefully the story will make sense.





	The Sixth Blight- Prologue- Maker, My Enemies Are Abundant

The wind whistled through the low canyons, the setting sun bathing the dry, rock floor in a warm orange. Minne stopped, nodding to the other wardens. Close. She turned to the regimented Tevinter soldiers, opened her mouth to speak... She said, precise and serious. "Ready your men. Very close."

The canyon in which they stood make an excellent choke-point, maybe 8 men could stand shoulder-to-shoulder. The growls and screeching of the blighters grew louder, the dying sun casting their shadows long against the upcoming bend; Minne nocked an arrow, whispering a quick pray to Andruil.

Gwyn unsheathed his long great sword and stepped out in front of the ranged fighters, gripping his sword tightly. Hopefully everyone behind him had good aim but he couldn’t worry about that now. This was a good place for a fight, it should be fairly simple provided not too many darkspawn made it through them. “Tiberius don’t let any make it to back rows, we hold this line” he turned addressing the young soldier. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, channeling energy from his core. He opened his eyes and stared down the approaching enemy, their stench hit him first, rotting meat, earth and something unnatural, tainted; like an open, festering wound. Maker damn them all back to the void…….

Tiberius nodded grimly at Ser Gwyn, stepping up to take position on the templar's right with his gladius unsheathed. His heart sped up and sweat beaded on his brow as he smelled the odor, and then moments later saw the visage of the darkspawn.

What had he gotten himself into? The gnashing teeth, the leathery skin pulled too tight over monstrous skulls, all thrown into sharp relief by the shadows of the canyon and setting sun... it was all so much worse than the anyone- anything- he'd fought before.

"Those mages back there better be quick with their spells." Oh Maker help him. The darkspawn rushed forward, snarling.

It is a twisted irony that Iskander, a one eyed man, is the only one who saw this coming from the horizon. It seems fabled Grey Wardens had led him and his men into a trap just as he suspected. If it was up to him, he'd have the party spread out with each Wardens in each group and send forward scouts before heading into the canyon. Doesn't matter now anyway. Focus, Iskander. Think of the coins

Men are getting edgy and The Jackals know what to do. Our crossbows are primed and ready. Iskander himself keep his eye on the canyon ridge above. There is a good chance that those stinky bastards would descend from above. He's familiar with this tactic but he doubts any non-Ander and Warden recruits actually met a darkspawn before, let alone killed one. But at least everyone here knows how to fight Iskander briefly glanced at the canyon path he just walked in. It is the only way out unless there more darkspawn waiting for more fish in the barrel.

"On your order, young master." said his lieutenant.

"Steady...." Iskander's left grabbed a hand crossbow on his waist. This naughty little girl is a pocket size sucker punch. His right is on the blade's hilt. If anything goes right which he doubts it, the blade should stay sheathed. "Eyes and ears, lads. Eyes and ears."

And there they are. Hello there, you ugly maggots. Long time no see, and you still smell like shit. It's been years since he killed a darkspawn, but that stink is not something can be easily forget.

This wasn’t Katari’s first encounter with the darkspawn. That being said, one could never grow accustomed to the monstrosities that they were. Grey, sickly skin pulled too tight, cracking open. Terrible, toothy grins.

The worst part is the smell. Like meat that’s been left out to dry in the sun. It took strength to resist it, let alone fight the darkspawn.

And somehow, Katari wound up near the front. “The absolute worst place” he thought to himself. As he saw them approach, he began uttering a few incantations taught to him by the other Wardens.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the energies surrounding the Wardens and their weapons. “This should help pierce their hides” he thought, as he stood ready to amplify the force with every swing and arrow launched, suddenly terrified of what’s to come.

Andie gripped her staff, Maker the smell. Would it always be this bad? She had hung back between the Wardens and the mercenaries, trying to be more along for the ride but quickly realizing it was time to shite or get off the pot.

She gathered her magic tightly, feeling it coil inside, she could cast a good Barrier and was ready to throw it at the first sign of trouble over the two men who stood at the front.

She thought the recognized the Templar but pushed down the childhood fear of the Mage Hunter, because it couldnt be him. Even if he was a Templar, she was there to help, and that meant keeping people safe.

Minne moved quickly, scrambling quickly as far as she could up the side of the canyon wall, locking her foot in a small crevice to keep her up. The putrid smell hit her, but she had long since grown past it. This was the smell of darkspawn; it worked like those special salts - pumped battle juice into her veins and sharpened her reflexes to a razor edge. From here she had a perfect view of the formation. Mages in the center, archers at the flanks; warriors at the fro- what the shit? Katari, that big fucking oaf was standing right near the front. The lad couldn't yet take a hit properly let alone give one! Growling low, she loosed a quick arrow at his feet, and gestured wildly to move back. She persuaded an arrow into the genlock's nose and scrambled the rest of the way up canyon.

Katari’s attention quickly shifted from his spell to his feet as an arrow lodged itself in the ground. To many, this would seem to be a missed shot, but Katari noticed Minne gesturing wildly at him.

“Maker, what have I done?” He thought to himself. He turned just in time to see the Hurlock’s blade before it crashed into his chest. Right as blood was about to be drawn, Katari locked the hurlock into a force field, staring at the creature’s eyes.

Heeding Minne’s advice, Katari began to run towards the back lines, but saw the front lines about to be swarmed by a horde of Genlocks. Images flashed back to him: memories of spells he’d learnt from the Wardens. Focusing on the hurlock leading them, Katari felt the energies around it: twisted, and bent...but easy to manipulate. He closed his eyes, feeling the rushing life force within this hurlock. All he had to do was focus, and....

A fine red mist erupts from the hurlock, knocking the genlocks to the ground. Katari began again to retreat away from the front line.

He heard the voice of the Templar-Warden in his head as he backed away. “Not today, little Ox,” it repeated. The faintest smile crept onto his face as he turned back towards the darkspawn. “Not today,” he whispered, as his mind sharpened the weapons of Gwyn and Tiberius.

Battle erupted as the darkspawn crashed into the front line made by Tiberius, and Gwyn. He grunted as a tall darkspawn shoved past him but managed to skewer a dwarf-sized one with his sword. Fireballs and lightning rained down from the mages behind him and he saw an arrow streak past from the periphery of his vision, but now it was the fighters’ job to hold the line. He scored another short darkspawn across the chest. It leaped back and snarled at him, exposing a putrid gaping hole of a mouth.

Tiberius heard a gasp behind him from Katari. He spun quickly, before he could help himself. He was just in time to watch the Qunari mage vaporize one of the tall darkspawn, knocking the other, smaller ones to the ground. If there was one thing Tiberius knew how to do, it was how to capitalize on the advantage given by a mage. He brought his sword down savagely on one of the darkspawn on the ground to protect Katari’s retreat...

Only to have the brave fool smile and turn back. Tiberius’ eyes widened as he saw a magical coat strengthen his weapon. Just as suddenly he was repaid for his inattention. The young soldier grunted as a blow from a darkspawn’s weapon struck his armored back and sent him to one knee.

“Makers breath” Gwyn muttered, he had been worried that mages shooting fire at them would only light them ablaze, but it seemed the Warden mages liked their fire real hot. He took out the large one so that was fortunate. The first wave that had made it past the mages attack was heading right for him, suddenly he felt a slight vibration in his sword; had someone cast a spell on it?

“Come and face your end filth!” he yelled drawing more of the darkspawn away from the Qunari that was currently retreating. Gwyn raised his great sword and with a mighty heave; swung it horizontally, cutting three hurlocks in half. Black ichor sprayed everywhere, coating his blade in it. He used the momentum he had already gained to swing his entire body around again in a great spin for a second strike, killing two more on his left, decapitating the Genlock.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the young soldier had been brought to his knee by a darkspawn blade, the creature was getting ready for another swing, this time at the boy’s head. Gwyn was to far away for his blade to reach him, leaving him only one option.

Using some of the energy in his core he had stored before the fight he summoned a great pillar of light, hitting the darkspawn that was attacking the boy, stunning it with the bright, holy light, along with the other darkspawn close to them. They shrieked in pain, reeling back and away from the soldier.

Too bad Dust Hounds Company can't have their own mages since a well-placed fireball can save a lot of troubles, and darkspawn is one of them. However, there are few things The Jackals suppressing fire can't fix, and darkspawn is not one of them.

A man in Imperium legionnaire's armor almost became the first casualty as a blow from darkspawn sent him to his knee. Fortunately, The Templar saved him from the impending doom with some sort of Templar's technique. Although it was not enough to kill those darkspawn, Templar's light beam rendered them easy targets. Iskander didn't waste this opportunity.

Shrieking creatures dropped dead as the Jackals finished them off with crossbows. "On your feet, soldier!" Iskander shouted at the kneeling legionnaire though he didn't expect the man to get back up instantly. Who knows if the man gets tainted from that hit, and if that's true, the only way out is chugging more of the creature's blood.

The very second that darkspawn near the soldier hit the ground, a big stinky brute emerged from the main horde, its hands raising a battle axe overhead and high pitch screech came from its rotten hole of a mouth. They really want that guy dead.

Bet no one saw that coming. Good thing I did, eh? Iskander smirked as he twitched his trigger finger. You don't need two eyes to pierce a bolt through someone's skull. That's one on the house.

Looks like the legionnaire needed some inspirations. In that case, Iskander can give him one, "Do you want me to go there and hold your hand? Stand!"

"Oh crap, oh crap." Was Andryanna's litany as she rapidly cast Barriers, first around the two heavily armored men in the front, then around the large Qunari mage, and anyone else who seemed to need one.

There seemed to be no end to the wave of darkspawn, so she did what any slightly panicked but ill-advised mage could do. She helped. She dashed forward a few lines of men, magic flashing from her staff as she moved. Andie spotted a way behind the Templar and put everything she had into Chained Lightning, watching it arc through the darkspawn.

A few had been missed and swarmed around, so she flipped her staff around, swinging and stabbing with the bladed bit while she waited for some of her mana to come back.

Gwyn felt it before he saw it, the hairs on his arms and neck stood up and a great chill wracked his body. Suddenly, to his left a long, gangly creature appeared out of what looked like thin air. It had the ears and lankiness of an elf but that is where the similarities ended, it was a horror to be sure. Gwyn threw his body back and away from the creature, it barely missed slicing his throat open but did manage to knock his helmet clean off, sending it flying through the air. The sweat in his white hair made it like daggers in his eyes, he brought his great sword up to defend himself as a charging hurlock tackled him to the hard ground. It brought its blade up, trying to stab at Gwyn's exposed head. With a great heave and burst of adrenaline he managed to flip them over, overpowering the creature and began bashing the darkspawn’s face in with the hilt of his sword and armored fist.

Blood and bile sprayed everywhere in the process, all over his armor and hand. Overhead a great, hot flame, bigger than any he had ever seen flew over his head. Incinerating where the rest of the darkspawn were coming from, it burned as is passed, briefly cooking him in his armor; like he was standing next to the sun. The creature stopped struggling after a few more blows just as Gwyn remembered, where was the shriek?

The answer came quickly to him as it jumped into his back, sinking its teeth into his exposed neck. Gwyn yelled out of rage more than pain, with all the adrenaline pumping through him he could hardly feel anything but anger. It sank its fangs in deeper, if it ripped them away he would die right then and there. Instead he reached up and grabbed the things head, holding it in place, running backwards until he slammed into a rock jutting out of the canyon wall. He could feel the gangly creatures back break with the force of the hit, it went limp and still. Gwyn grabbed its mouth, prying it open and off his neck, letting it slide to the stone under their feet.

Breathing heavily, he got a good grip back on his sword, he would deal with the implications of the bite later. For now, they were still in trouble and it seemed the darkspawn were worse off. Hot blood dripped down his arm and chest as he raised his sword and rushed back into the fray.

Tiberius had lunged back to both feet at the urging of the one-eyed mercenary, just in time for an explosion of action- first a blast of holy light, then a volley of crossbow bolts. Tiberius slammed his sword down upon his shield and yelled, "Shield wall!" The other Tevinter guards, those few who were left, locked shields with him. There were so few darkspawn left, a quarter or less than their original number. A front-line push now with the archers to support them would be all they would need to finish this fight. The bloodied, beleaguered men just needed to hold the line a little longer.

He heard the clang of a helmet being knocked to the ground and pained groans to his left, but could not break the wall now. He only prayed Ser Gwyn would come through. Tiberius waded forward in lockstep with the other Tevinter guards, their ranks chewing into the quickly diminishing line of darkspawn.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was Andraste herself, maybe it was sheer foolishness, but Andryanna rushed forward, joining the front line by the Templar, a quick look confirmed, it was Ser Gywn. He had blood running down his neck, but he was still swinging his massive sword at the horde.

"Haul my body back if you have to!" She yelled, casting Barrier over herself, charging forward a few steps and flinging out Mind Blast. The world seemed to slow, the darkspawn blood slashed her cheek as she tried to back away from it, another blade caught her arm, wrenching it upwards as the blast hit. She shoved the pain away and focused on the enemy in front of her and cast a Chain of lightning, watching it leap through the horde, stunning or killing them.

Andie stumbled back, trying to stay on her feet and ignore the many bleeding wounds over her body.

He turned just in time to catch a darkspawn blade to the chest, a hurlock growling directly in his face. Maker help me, Katari thought, feeling the warm blood begin to coat his shirt. The hurlock's mouth spread into a wide, toothy grin immediately before the Qunari hoisted it over his head with all of his strength, slamming him on the ground.

Katari began to pummel the darkspawn beast with his staff. Blow after vicious blow, he felt the typical anger of a Qunari in battle rising up within himself. He was awoken from his bloodlust by the crackle of electricity, looking up to see a mage and a templar in the thick of the horde. Maker...they won't last long, he thought, as the pain from his chest wound shot through him. But then, neither will I.

Now unthinking, Katari dropped his staff, rushing towards Gwyn and and the mage. His thoughts focused on the heat of battle around him, and as he reached them, he conjured a forcefield around the three of them as he fell to his knees. A handful of genlocks were caught inside however-- cut off from the rest of the horde, and completely at the mercy of Gwyn and Andryanna. As Katari concentrates entirely on the force field, it slowly begins to falter. This could drop at any time...lets hope its enough he thinks to himself as he marvels at the horror of the horde.

“Wedge! Jackals, on me.” The Jackals formed a formation as ordered. This should offer the firepower to finish off remaining darkspawn and immediate response in all direction. Last thing he need right now is a shriek sneak up on him or one of his men. He had to admit the Templar is tough, most men wouldn’t get back up that easy after getting bitten by one by those sneaky creatures. There is a good chance that there are more of them still lurking somewhere nearby. “Check your corner as we move.”

At this rate, it is a matter of time before the defensive line completely crumbles which is a nightmare in such terrain if more creatures pour into the narrow path. Some of the mages are obviously getting desperate. Count to three, inhale. Count to four, exhale. That’s good. A screeching darkspawn somehow managed to get pass the warriors. Its body caught in flame but still kicking and screaming. Iskander shut it up for good with a bolt between the eyes.

“Bloody wankstain, this is way more than 40!” Whoever gave the report should get a demotion to kitchen until they know how to count. Iskander hoped the Grey Warden realized this is a mistake and do something smart before their recruits get overrun. Some of the mages like the Qunari recruit with an ugly outfit rushed to the front line and female mages got wounded from that stunt she just pulled.

Good grief, are you having a laugh? The Jackals can’t protect them forever, sooner or later they will run out of bolts, but those mages seemed to forget about it. Fine. Looks like I have to do it myself. "I'll move ahead. Bruford, give me your rucksack. Now keep them off my blindside."

“Shouldn’t we get out of here, miss?” Iskander directed his question to the elven Warden. “Dead recruits wouldn’t be much of any uses, yeah?”

One of the senior Wardens attending the larger than usual group felt their eyes widening at the sight before them. All they had to do was hold the line, instead the mages rushed forward after nearly all the Darkspawn had been dealt with, leaving the archers there little in the way of maneuverability to deal with them. The Templar was another case entirely, but the complete disregard of what to do not only baffled him but made him wonder what they were even doing here in the first place.

"That fucking kid," the ancient man grumbled to himself as he pushed some of the Tevinters forward, "come on, go help them!" The Warden shouted, the soldiers knowing now was not the time to bicker while a small group of the Darkspawn still drew breath.

A solid chant was made and together, following the rhythm of the pulsating shouts coupled with the force of the Legionaries strength of arms, the remaining genlocks were pushed back. The few that tried to fight the winded men were felled and those that did run sprinted off past the remains of their fellows into the waiting darkness that embraced them as they retreated. The Warden sent in one last arrow after them, biting his thumb at them in a manner reminiscent to the way Orlesians insulted one another.

He let out one long, heavy sigh before turning to the recruits and giving them a once over. The mercenary would've done decently because he didn't fuck the entire formation and the mages would be a fine blunt instrument to deploy, but the rest of them... The Templar fought decently enough yet risking the strength of the shield-wall by not acting as an intermediary between the line.

A tired set of legs walked the Warden over to the clustered recruits. "Now," he said and turned to face the other two mage recruits now nursing their, "what the absolute fuck were you two idiots thinking? Did we forget the two mages we brought with us for some farm hands lacking the common sense to not run at the enemy while armed with nothing more than their bare loins for protection? I've seen shit with more brains than the two of you combined!" He yelled out at them, just glad he didn't lose them before the Joining, but still royally pissed off.

"I would rather drag my balls through the mouth of a hungry genlock than watch whatever fucking unbelievable stupidity I was just subjected to that makes me want to tear my eyes out of my sockets!" The berating tirade kept coming and coming, the Warden's foul mouth seemingly never out of curses before he turned a slight hue of purple which made him inhale a deep breath.

"Get patched up quick and get your shit because we need to get out of here before more come back." He spat out at the recruits, shoving them as they passed.

He pulled a Tevinter soldier's head out of the muck, still breathing but knocked out cold and gave him a good punch in the back of his breastplate to wake him up. "That goes for the rest of you lot, too. We're moving out in two minutes with or without you, grab the dead, their belongings any non-injured get blood from the Darkspawn. No need to be picky, either, we got quite a selection.

The words of the Senior Warden rung in Katari’s head. This sort of discipline was not uncommon amongst the Wardens, but that fact didn’t make it any easier to be on the receiving end.

Still, Katari couldn’t help holding back a smile. He and the other mage had helped in some way. If that had meant sacrificing themselves...wasn’t that what being a Warden meant?

In War, Victory

In Peace, Vigilance

In Death, Sacrifice

In death, sacrifice... Katari had read the creed of the Wardens countless times in the libraries. He knew that being a Warden meant being willing to sacrifice themselves for each other.

He thought back to the battlefield. Rushing through the darkspawn...dropping his staff... stupid risks. They all could have gotten him killed. And yet, he felt pride at having made them.

He turned to the quiet girl in the same boat as him. She was in the same boat as him: rushing to help those in need. Trying to comfort her, he said: “I saw you running through those monsters. No matter what he said back there, you’ll be a great Warden. I’m just glad we got through it.”

Gwyn was lost in his own world; head pounding, heart racing. The pain in his neck where the creature had bit him was severe. He had fought all manner of horrors from pride demons to blood mages and to be finally killed by a single shriek made him almost what to laugh.

He spared a quick glance around him, two of the mages had rushed forward to the front of the line. It was a brave and selfless thing to do, very stupid but brave non the less. It was the Qunari he had met earlier and a young woman. Gwyn couldn't quite place her, she had yelled something to him like she knew him. Wait, the little girl from Hossberg, the one that had begged for mercy. He remembered her blue eyes, scared and brimming with tears; she was grown, and her eyes were different now.

He gave the girl a look, one that conveyed he recognized her. He could hardly believe that same girl had volunteered to join the Wardens, he didn't believe it but that would be for another time…….if there was another time.

Andryanna hated being yelled, always had. But maybe the Warden had a point. It was a little hairbrained, but it had saved lives. That counted for something at least she hoped so.

Andie leaned heavily on her staff, trying to catch her breath. "Thanks. I've never really fought before. Not sure I'll ever get the smell out of my mind." She gave a weak smile to the Qunari before glancing over at the Templar, watching him stagger slightly.

She stepped over and pulled a small healing potion, handing it to the Templar. "Here, you look like you are about to fall over, Ser Mage Hunter."

She held out a hand to the Qunari, "Andryanna, everyone calls me Andie. Please tell me this isnt every day with the Wardens, cause I kind of want to go home if thats the case. Or to hide in a giant library among a pile of books."

The thing about being a mercenary is everyone always presume him to do his jobs on the field, then ignore him entirely once the danger is gone, at least for a moment. Nonetheless, Iskander is no longer bothered as long as he got paid.

"Good work back there, Jackals. Considering what we just got into, we managed to make it out with no casualties. Markus, don't forget to have quartermaster check on your crossbow." Iskander gave them a short debrief. "Can't wait to get back home and a bottle of brandy. I supposed none of you have that in your backpack."

"Young master, may I?" Ivor raised his hand. Iskander nodded. "I think them creatures we fought were in a greater number than the Wardens anticipated. For what I've heard, it should be a mere skirmish."

"It should. But they were way over their head about those death or glory dogmas of them." Iskander didn't raise his voice neither lower it. If the Warden hear it, that means they still have a pair of working ears. "Thaddeus!" he called the youngest Jackal.

"Yes, young master!" the lad stood up so fast Iskander though someone put a needle on the rock he was sitting.

"Go back to Weisshaupt. Send a bird to the Ambassadoria. They need to know what happened here. If the Wardens ask, told them we are on the way back, and their scouts need a thorough, nasty drill."

"Right away!" The lad grabbed his gears and head out immediately. Energetic, eager to prove himself, just like me when I was his age.

"I'll check on those newbies. Deep breath, men. We will head out when I get back." Iskander stood up, grabbing a bag of spare medicine. We don't need an extra batch anyway. He put a few elfroot leaves in his mouth and started chewing then approached the wounded mages; a girl and a Qunari.

"It's a long way back, kids. Take this." He handed them the bag. "It's on the house. Maybe you kids just do us a favor and try to be more careful next time." He turned to the young legionnaire who did decent job at the canyon. Just the type Dust Hounds always looking for. Should have met him before this mess. "Oi, soldier!" he called out, tossing a healing potion at him "Grab this, we need people who know the end of a sword at their best."

Tiberius snagged the healing potion from the air, nodding gratefully at the one-eyed mercenary. This was a man who knew the smart way around a fight- his brightly-colored silks had not a speck of dust or blood on them, despite the furious attempts of the darkspawn to reach him. Tiberius could respect any man that quick with a crossbow, even if his clothes were a bit...garish. "I ought to thank you..." he said to the mercenary, but trailed off as he noticed Ser Gwyn, bleeding sluggishly from the neck, with sword raised over Tiberius' old commander.

“Ser Templar!” he barked, stepping over. He grabbed the man by the shoulder of his plate armor to steady him. "Ser Gwyn, stop. Tend to your wounds." Tiberius glanced at the blood slowly pulsing from the Templar's neck, then at the healing potion held loosely in one of Gwyn's hands.

He prayed the man would not be too stubborn to take it, and that it was not too late to save him. Tiberius met Ser Gwyn's pale eyes once again, his dark brown eyes stony with resolve.

He felt his heart pounding hard again and began gathering what little strength he could muster. He dropped the healing potion that the girl had offered firmly, it landed with a soft thud in the sand.

He raised his free hand to the soldier “Now you listen here boy…….” he started but was unable to finish as unconsciousness finally claimed him. He fell face forward, landing with a loud clang onto the ground.

Andie jumped when the Templar, her staff clattering to the ground. "Oh for. Really?"

She dug in her pouch for a bandage or three, pressing them against Gwyn's neck. Maybe it was the aftermath of the battle still roaring in her veins, but she was not about to let a bit of shyness on her part let someone be killed.

She tried to turn him over, but he was in full plate and not a small man, and she was maybe 50kg soaking wet. Andie failed to shift his body enough to try and feed the potion down his throat.

"Can one of you big strapping boys maybe help me a bit here?" She shouted, slapping the Templar's face gently. "Oh, come on. Dont die. I'm a crappy Healer, dont make me try Healing spells."

Since nobody seemed to notice, Iskander decided to help the girl just to get it over with. The sooner they move out, the better.

Did the Chantry feed this guy rocks? The Templar turned over after a push and soft grunt. Iskander took helmet off the unconscious man, his face was as grey as Fereldan left over mush.

"He's all yours, miss." Iskander let the healer do her job "If he doesn't get back up, we are going need to pry him off that armor. No way we are going to carry him all the way back with it unless that big bloke over there likes to lend us a hand." He referred to the Qunari then glanced over an old Warden to just barked an order to his people. That geezer looked at him several times already.

The Warden with the badly healed leg returned quickly with the donkeys and Tiberius helped him haul the unconscious templar onto the stretcher. The man barely glanced at him long enough to shove a box of glass vials into his hands. "Go get yourself a bit of what we came for," he ordered gruffly. The man tightened the straps around Gwyn and swatted the donkey to get it moving.

Tiberius blinked for a moment, exhaustion dragging at him now that the adrenaline of the fight was wearing off. He turned towards Katari and the impetuous female mage, still standing nearby. "Something to remind yourself of the fun," he said, offering them vials. The fading light turned the blood that soaked the sandy floor of the canyon a deep, dark maroon. There was plenty to go around.

Tiberius trudged after the regiment of Tevinters as the two mage-recruits collected their share of darkspawn blood. "Vials for the darkspawn blood,” The Tevinters collected their share of blood and marched from the canyon. Tiberius paused only a moment next to the decapitated trunk of one of the stubby darkspawn, eyes picking out the donkey carrying Ser Gwyn. The soldier stooped to collect two vials of blood- a share for himself, a share for the injured templar. As the last light faded from the canyon, Tiberius fell in with Katari and the female mage for the tired trek back to the Grey Wardens' fortress.

Andryanna stared at the vial in her hand, watching Tiberius collect the blood. "Oh great. Go and help the Wardens, Andie, you dont have to become a Warden, just help out some." She muttered stooping over a corpse and gathering some blood. "Maker, what did I sign up for? Why do they have to smell so awful? And why is it always worse after they die?"

She trudged back to the fortress a constant litany of mutterings. "Just wanted to be a researcher, translate old texts, study ancient ruins. But noooo I had to open my big fat mouth and volunteer, and then decide that fighting was a good idea. Sweet Andraste, I should have stayed in the library."

Katari felt uneasy collecting blood from the darkspawn. Was that what they were doing? What other purpose could there be for collecting darkspawn blood?

Regardless, he did his duty, filling his vial up with the putrid, black poison-blood of the hurlock that attacked him. As the blood oozed into the container, the wound on his chest began to pulse, reminding him of his carelessness on the field. He'd received healing, but still the injury stung.

Shrugging off the pain, Katari ran to catch up with Tiberius, now a fair distance ahead. He still was slightly cautious, remembering the glimpse of distrust that he'd caught from Tiberius when they first spoke. A slight clinking of glass against glass drew Katari's attention to the two vials carried by Tiberius.

He might be from Tevinter, but he seems to care more than most of them.

Katari smiled, a new spring in his step. The journey back to Weisshaupt may not feel that long with company like this...


End file.
